For some years I did not like my birthdays anymore. I loved to celebrate this date with my friends, but the birthday, in itself, the symbol of time that passes “no, thanks”. Because these scrolling numbers only brought me closer to this one: 30. And that one I did not like it. I imagined that at thirty we must have understood everything, succeeded in everything, being accomplished. And I felt very far from it. I was summarizing my life and it was never in a positive way.
And then my move, my broken hand, the new year maybe, I do not know exactly what happened, but my mood changed. This number that scared me became the perfect excuse to dare, to do. It was a pledge of maturity. At 20, we do, we try, because it’s the age of experiences, but at 30 we do, we try, because we know what we want. I began to consider that I had spent enough years on earth to know me a little and to know what I wanted. And I also found that I had not spent enough years to allow me to do it.
So at the beginning of the year, when we decided to quit smoking or go back to sport, I made the decision to start, finally. To say “I’m a photographer” when asked what I do. To think of my photographs as my job. To be a business leader who makes every effort to advance her project. And I started to work.
On March 5th, this famous number arrived. I celebrated my birthday with my friends and family, I ate too many cakes, but at last I was serene.
I do not know what my future will be, but I know I’m taking it in my hands.